LonE-creatiON
by Evening Blossom
Summary: Without memory. Lacking truth. Alone in a world where there are no promises. (Disclaimer: I do not own Vocaloid and only take credit for my own writing in this story.)
1. Chapter One

_Emptiness._

My mind ponders over other possible words, potential expressions to describe how I feel on the inside and the outside alike. I can think of nothing more. Through the wealth of words in my mind, seemingly placed there overnight by a practiced and steady hand, there was no other concept as close to what I felt at this exact moment and the accumulation of moments before than the word _emptiness_. I had no reason, no purpose –

_What is that?_

My mind snaps to attention, dragging itself out of the pool of confusion it had succumbed to drowning itself in. It had become weak, more than I could bear to admit, and the efforts I took in dragging it out of the ocean of submit were truly Herculean. In a dark corner of my mind, hidden safely and almost completely away, was a feeling I could not quite fathom, could not quite place in the void of my world. All I knew, unquestionably, was that it – that misplaced feeling - was unlike anything else, different from the lonely vacuum that was I. It was so near that I felt as if I could –

_touch – _


	2. Chapter Two

A sizeable, heavy, stainless steel door opens silently on its hinges, and a lanky, well-built man steps into a shockingly white room with a grace that is quite unbelievable for a person his size. Seconds later, the same door slips shut, with an audible _click_ that is small in sound yet foreboding in its finality. If the man were to compare it to anything in the world, it would be to the heavy oak door of a morgue. Ah, but if one heard it as often as he did, one would no longer analyze it in such a way and would instead allow the sound to morph into nothing more than a door closing when in truth, it represents anything but. Before the man's thoughts become too muddled with silly metaphorical meanings, he walks down the middle of the room; his slow yet deliberate steps lead him to his task. On either side of his form is the lab equipment he has come to use and know well since his time as an apprentice. But with time comes experience, and with this newfound knowledge, the man realized the true use of every apparatus.

The man's footsteps slow to a stop, and he carefully perches a pair of safety goggles upon his nose. Through those same goggles, golden-brown eyes peer closely at a large cylinder of formaldehyde where a singular, perfect being floats amidst the fluid. When at last the man is satisfied with the visual information he has processed, he proceeds towards a sleek silver computer. Upon instinct, his hands settle upon the keyboard, prepared to give instructions to the machine and initiate his undertaking, but before that can happen, the door he came through has opened again, revealing the slim, shadowed frame of a woman.

"How is… he?" The woman's voice, usually unfailingly clear and professional, falters upon the pronoun and makes its way to the man's ears.

"Miss Maki. How kind of you to come." The man at the computer turns from the machine and proceeds to offer his visitor a respectful bow, true reverence evident in his tone and body language. She nods and offers him a fleeting, icy smile in response, allowing her eyes to discreetly move from his golden-brown ones to the faultless being suspended amidst the formaldehyde.

"Is he ready, Yasuo?" Maki proceeds to make her way to the man's side of the room, planning to oversee the procedure herself. She uses the pronoun with more conviction now, eager to oversee the man's work. Yasuo, after little more than a second of thought, nods. He had been preparing for this day since the Project had begun, and recognized the signs easily. As Maki settles into a nearby seat, one that enabled her to watch over Yasuo's shoulder at the computer screen and its contents, she nods curtly, crosses her arms over her chest, and states;

"You may prepare. But pray, do not take long."

And so, without a breath of delay, he does so.

Save for the clock on the top right corner of Yasuo's computer screen, one could not tell or even guess at the rate of the passage of time. Not that it mattered much. In the _Artificial Voice Creation _wing of the Zero-G Limited building, there was seldom a voice that spoke without having something critically important to say, and there was rarely an occasion where the concept of time was mentioned. Some would have called the high concentration and silence levels eerie. Disturbing would not even begin to describe the atmosphere, some whispered, and many would no doubt go further with their adjectives. Despite this, though, the human mind is capable of adapting to any sort of environment, and the _Artificial Voice Creation_ wing's brooding muteness was no different.

At last, when everything is in perfect order, Yasuo turns to his superior, a sparkle of anticipation reflecting in his russet eyes. Patience remains as he faces the woman in the snowy white chair and awaits her choice. Maki has not moved a muscle from her seat since she last spoke, and is still perfectly poised, with her willowy legs crossed calmly at the ankle. The only difference in her serene character is, perhaps, her attentive aura. Even so, she suppresses her curiosity a while longer and looks closely at Yasuo, her calculating coffee-coloured gaze taking every detail in.

When she is finally satisfied, a guarded smile and nod of the head signifies her consent. As if to make her intent clearer, Maki stands, steps towards the computer, and with a tap on the sleek silver mouse nearby, presses the button displayed in the center on the otherwise black screen.

_Project: Vocaloid LEON. _

_Status: Initiated. _


End file.
